Clash
by BennieWaffles
Summary: She shouldn't be here. She should never have come, it was forbidden. But she did it, anyway. And, as a result, the unthinkable happened. But, oh, it was so good. AU. Clace one-shot. OOC. Werewolves. Rated T.


**Clash**

 **Sum: She shouldn't be here. She should never have come, it was forbidden. But she did it, anyway. And, as a result, the unthinkable happened. But, oh, it was so good. AU. Clace one-shot. OOC. Werewolves. Rated T.**

 **A/N: Helloooooo. School's officially over :D. So, my life and mood have instantly improved.  
This one-shot is about the supernatural, but not shadowhunters... It's about werewolves. So, I've been trying to write a one-shot about mates for ****_so long_** **, but I never really had a catchy element, and now I do. So, here it is.**

 **I know right, for once it's not a ridiculously long A/N I'm so awesome.**

 **Enjoy :)**

 **If you're new here READ MY OTHER ONE-SHOTS :D**

...

...

...

She shouldn't be here. She should turn away and never look back to the forbidden place, which she was entering anyway.

 _Pandemonium_.

The bouncer was oblivious to her scent, as every mundane was. Instead, he was entirely focused on her boobs, which was her ticket in.

Her petite body was hugged tightly by a short black dress, with long sleeves.

She wasn't allowed to be here. She wasn't allowed to do many things, but she did it all, anyway.

And took the punishments.

She imagined the punishment for this would be great, she could already feel the bruises forming just thinking of it.

The reason why she was breaking the rules was to find a new pack. One that treated her as she should be.

It was dangerous, but she wouldn't want it any other way. She loved the thrill of it.

This was the first time she dared leave her own territory, and she was loving it.

She hadn't come across any wolves yet, but she would soon enough.

After all, she was currently making her way into their hangout.

It was tightly packed, the dance floor one moving throng of bodies, swinging from side to side, grinding on their partner.

Clary, knowing it probably wasn't the smartest thing to do, made her way to the bar

As expected, she sat down and was immediately approached. Not in the good, hot-guy way, but in the creepy-werewolf-what-are-you-doing-in-my-territory way.

It started with a hand on her shoulder, not a gentle one, and a harsh growl in her ear.

'' _Morgenstern_.''

''Come with us, little one.''

It wasn't exactly how she planned, but she got in. Now, all she had to do was find a way in to the _pack_ , which was a little trickier.

But oh, it was a lot easier than she thought.

She was dragged past the dance floor with rough hands, to the dark part of the club, where there were dark booths, occupied by—she could smell them—werewolves. The Herondale pack.

Her first quest. If she failed with this one, she'd either be dead, or on the search for a different pack to join.

And then they stopped, plopping her down in a booth, across from a muscled guy with golden hair.

His eyes were cast down, she couldn't see the colour, but she wanted to. She wanted to see the look in his eyes, to determine what kind of approach she had to make. To determine if she had a chance or not.

''Sir, we caught a Morgenstern.''

She could smell it on him, he was the leader. He radiated leadership, demanding respect.

As soon as he heard the name fall, his eyes snapped up.

And gold met green.

And she found her ticket in.

As soon as their eyes met, a bond was forged.

She'd only heard of it, the indestructible connection between wolf and wolf, when they were meant for each other. Perfect for each other.

Mates.

The gorgeous man across from her froze, as did she. As did the men who dragged her there.

Everyone froze, except for the hypnotised crowd of mundanes, oblivious to the world outside of their own.

''Sir?''

''Well, shit.''

...

...

...

The blindfold was removed from her face, to reveal her piercing glare, immediately directed at her newfound mate.

She could sense his presence where ever he moved, even when blinded.

He was standing across from her, hands in the pockets of his jeans, seemingly casual. But his gaze was anything but.

''What are you doing here?''

Clary stayed silent. She didn't know why she did, maybe she was in shock.

Maybe she wanted to get a reaction out of him, see what she was dealing with.

After exactly 10 seconds of silence, he moved.

She didn't register it until after he did, since it was faster than lightning.

His hands were on the armrests, his face hovering and inch or so from hers.

''I don't care if you're my _mate_ ,'' he spat the word, like he was disgusted by it,''because I _will_ hurt you, if you don't answer me.''

She just stared back at him, eyes holding the same challenge as his did. She wasn't afraid.

He held her stare, before pulling away and chuckling.

''I can see why you're my mate,'' he scratched the back of his neck, ''but, little girl, I need answers.''

''My name isn't little girl.'' Her voice was weaker than she wanted it to be, as it always was.

His voice was strong, clearly holding the authority.

He himself was gorgeous. His facial structure was near perfection, sharp and slim. His body was muscled and lean, clothed with dark, ripped jeans, a black T-shirt and a leather jacket.

He looked bad-ass, the two black rings through his left ear and the nose ring only helping the cause.

She, on the other hand, looked as innocent as you could get. At least, she did with clothes on.

The reason she wore long sleeves was to hide the full on sleeves of ink in the skin of her arms.

''What is it, then?''

''Clary.''

He froze.

''Clarissa Morgenstern?''

She looked down at her platform heels, nodding weakly.

''Who are you?'' Her voice was just as weak as her posture.

''I'm Jace. Leader of the Herondale pack.''

She remained quiet, apparently the sight of the floor was much more interesting.

''Why did you leave? Why are you here?''

Sending her to spy on them would never work, they'd be able to smell her from a few miles away. The Morgenstern scent on her was as strong as ever.

He could see she was reluctant to answer, and was about to threaten her again when she sucked in a breath.

''I'm looking for a new pack.''

''Why?'' The question was sharp and fast, but nearly nothing could catch her off guard these days.

She held up her hands, tied together expertly, questioning him with her eyes.

He rolled his, untying it as quick as he could.

''Try _anything_ and I'll have you whipped bloody.''

Instead of trying anything, or saying anything, she stood up and started unzipping her dress.

He held his hands up. ''Wow, we _just_ met—''

''Shut up.'' She grumbled.

She had to show him this, or else he wouldn't believe her. She _needed_ a new pack, her old pack _needed_ to be destroyed, the innocent saved from the reckless man in charge.

Her father.

Her father, who beat Clary bloody for every tiny mistake she made.

Firstly, she removed her arms from the long sleeves, feeling his eyes caress her inked skin.

 _Not as much of a little girl as I thought_.

Then, his eyes found her bruised torso.

And he instantly wanted to murder whoever did this to her.

Maybe it was because they were mates, maybe because this innocent little girl should never have been treated like this. Maybe, because when he first saw her, he immediately cared for her.

He reached out for her, out of instinct, as soon as he saw her wounds. He wanted to caress them, kiss them better.

He was more shocked at the fact that he wasn't at all distracted by her chest, instead the first thought in his head was to treat her wounds and punish whoever harmed her.

 _Not_ that he didn't appreciate her chest— _holy shit_ , she looked gorgeous in her lacy bra and panties, standing in front of him with red cheeks and a shy posture—but his initial thought wasn't to fuck her, like it would always be with other girls.

Really, he shouldn't even be shocked that she had wounds in the first place; the Morgenstern pack was a vicious and reckless one. After all, a pack takes after its leader.

He didn't really have to ask who did this to her.

His spies knew of Valentine, how he barely let Clarissa— _Clary_ —out of the house, how he would give her these warning looks if she spoke her mind. A warning for what was to come, her punishment.

Clary stiffened, wanting to flinch away out of instinct as soon as his fingers touched her skin, but unlike Valentine's rough, demanding and abusing hands, his were gentle and caring.

She looked at him and it was almost as if he... didn't realize he was touching her. As soon as he did, he retreated his hand and steadied himself, clearing his throat awkwardly.

''I can assume who did this, but I need your confirmation.'' He was avoiding her curious gaze, choosing to focus on the images on her arms.

She turned around to pick up the dress she had discarded behind her, anger coursed through him as his eyes wandered over her back.

 _''Try anything and I'll have you whipped bloody.''_

Seems like she already had been.

As soon as she had her dress back on and was facing her mate once again, her eyes refused to meet his. The roles were reversed, him being the curious one, her avoiding his gaze.

''My father.''

It was so soft, he could barely hear it, but as soon as he processed her words, he had the urge to punch something—or rather, _someone_.

''How can you still call him that? _Father?_ ' Jace spat the word out, like venom on his tongue, ''No _father_ would treat their own blood like yours did.''

She flinched a little, taking a hesitant step back as his voice went angry.

He didn't say anything, but she could feel his breathing starting to calm down.

She really had to get used to it, being aware of every single thing he did, every movement he made. She could feel his eyes on her, burning her skin. But it wasn't an unpleasant burn, she rather enjoyed it. It made her feel like someone was watching over her, protecting her.

''We're not allowed to call him by his name... He makes sure we know that.''

He hesitated for a second, pondering what to ask next. ''W-who is 'we'?''

Jace mentally slapped himself, stumbling over his words. What an idiot he was, showing his weaknesses to an enemy. But he had to remind himself, a potential ally, as well.

He was stuck in a tricky situation. Having a mate outside of your own pack was dangerous, having a mate as an enemy even more so. All the threats he made from the moment their eyes connected were empty—at least, he knew they were. It seemed the Morgenstern girl— _Clary_ , he had to remind himself—didn't know much about their connection.

He couldn't kick her out, distance himself from her. Werewolves were strong, mentally as well as physically. The only cases of wolves going mad were because they'd had a disorder before being turned, or because they were mates. Two mates being driven apart, far away from each other for too long, could cause them both to go crazy with the longing for each other's presence. As a pack leader, he had to keep himself sane, for the sake of the people who trusted Jace with their life—which meant he had to keep her close.

He had a feeling that that wouldn't be too hard; her presence was intoxicating. All he wanted to do was take her in his arms, touch her in any way possible, listen to her voice and her noises, to her breaths and heartbeat. _God_ , what was happening to him?

So, he couldn't kick her out. If Clary got in Valentine's hands, he'd never get her back.

If he wanted answers from her, about anything, he'd have to trust her, like she'd have to trust him. Which is why his threats of hurting her were empty, any harm done to Clary would in some way reach him. He didn't know how it worked—would he feel it the same way she would? Would he just _know_ she was being hurt? He wasn't exactly keen on finding out.

''My older brother and I. His name is Jonathan.''

She could feel his emotions, his hesitation, but as he spoke his next words, they were certain, no question about them.

''You're safe here, under my protection.''

His words pulled her eyes to his, meeting his golden gaze with her green one.

''W—why?''

This time, he hesitated. Not about why he wanted to keep her safe, but if it was smart to tell the truth.

''Because I care about you.''

Immediately, she opened her mouth to respond, but he cut her off by putting his hand over her mouth, to which she rolled her eyes.

''And I'm not saying that because I feel inclined to, because of the mate thing and all. It's quite simple,'' he looked into her eyes, mentally begging her to look at him—it was like she heard his mental pleas, because her eyes met his, ''the moment I looked into your eyes, I cared about you. A bond was formed, you felt it, I felt it, everyone felt the connection. And because of that connection, we're mates.''

He removed his hand from her mouth so she could respond, but her eyes were confused.

''To simplify: I don't care about you _because_ we're mates. We're mates _because_ I care about you.''

To him, it sounded perfectly logical, but she just became more confused.

He groaned, searching his brain for ways to explain. In times like this, he was desperate for his mother's advice, and one thing she always told him came to mind. A mundane saying, but that didn't make it any less true.

Actions speak louder than words.

So his only logical solution, was to kiss her.

And so he did.

The moment their lips met, something just _clicked_ —inside his head, inside his heart, like he'd been completed. That moment the connection was forged, when their eyes met, was nothing compared to _this_.

Her lips molded to his, his to hers. Every moved he made, she followed up, completely in synch with each other. Pure ecstacy flowed through him, so much that he didn't care for air, or breathing. He cared for Clary, he didn't need oxygen, he needed _her_.

Clary'd never kissed someone before. She'd thought about it plenty, but never would her imagination have reached this. Even though she'd never shared a kiss with a man, she knew that it would never feel like this. Everything he wanted to say, everything he felt, she could feel through the connection of their lips. No words were needed, no explanations. It was like they had their own language.

And _fuck_ , they wanted so much more.

His tongue ran over her bottom lip, making her legs tremble. He could feel it, every move she made, every shiver running over her spine, including the trembles in her legs. He moved his hands from her neck to her shoulder, over her sides, until they rested just underneath her ass.

He pulled his lips away from hers reluctantly, but never broke the connection of their skin as he rested his forehead against hers, his nose touching hers.

She opened her eyes, only to suck in a sharp breath as two deep pits of molten gold stared at her, with a certain fire in it that she never wanted to forget. They shone with lust, admiration, desire and love, his pupils blown so wide that the gorgeous gold was nearly lost. She could only imagine how her eyes looked, but she presumed it was comparable. She didn't even want to think about how red her cheeks were, how messy her hair was from his hands running through it, but strangely, she didn't really care.

He'd almost forgotten why he pulled away, too mesmerized by her emerald eyes, drawing him in and drowning him in their beauty—in _her_ beauty.

He felt her shiver underneath his hands, her legs shaking as she struggled to remain standing with the overwhelming feelings she received from kissing him, _touching_ him. Which brought him back to his original intention.

'' _Jump_.'' He intended to whisper, but it came out more as a hiss.

''Shit.'' She groaned involuntarily at how deep and husky his voice was, dripping with lust.

She jumped up, wrapping her legs around his waist as he pressed her against the wall.

Just as he leaned in to capture her lips with his once again, they were interrupted.

''Sir?'' Followed by two quick knocks.

He dropped his head to the redhead's neck, growling out of frustration, causing her to once again shiver.

He couldn't help but smirk against her skin at the effect he had on her, just like she had an effect on him.

''Come in!'' His voice was muffled against her skin, a normal person standing outside a closed door wouldn't have heard it. The advantages of being a werewolf.

''Valentine is he—woah!''

Clary's cheeks flared, as did the interrupting werewolf's.

Her embarrassment was doubled—no, _tripled_ —when Jace just kept kissing her neck. Sure, it felt heavenly, but it was awkward when one of his pack—technically her enemy—was watching them.

''Jace.'' She hissed, and not out of lust, slapping him on his shoulder. ''He said something about my father.''

He pulled away from her neck, looking around as if just realizing there was someone else in the room.

''Valentine? What about him?'' He released Clary from his hold, she immediately went to stand behind him as the werewolf glared at her. She was the enemy, she doubted that would ever change.

''He's here. He knows you have _her_.''

The werewolf wasn't exactly intimidating, but since Jace made it pretty clear she was going to be here, under his protection, it meant she'd need to get along with the pack. Right now, she wasn't off to a good start as his glare towards her remained.

''Jordan, this is my _mate_. Her name is Clary. You _will_ treat her with respect.'' Instead of glaring right back at the guy—Jordan, apparently—her gaze moved towards Jace as he held a protective tone. She'd believed his promises of protection, but never imagined him actually protecting her. It felt... good. She felt loved, it was a nice change.

''We have more pressing matters, Jace.''

She could see—and sense—his jaw clenching. ''What does he want?''

Jordan's tone was final. ''His daughter.''

...

...

...

The reasonably large, forest cottage where the Herondale pack resided, disappeared further and further into the distance as they walked to the open field where Valentine demanded to meet them.

The pack decided to walk like humans instead of run like wolves, afraid Valentine might mistake it for an attack. They were certain they would win if a battle did commence, but decided to take a strategic approach. If it were to come down to a fight, Jace would challenge Valentine for the leadership over his pack. A battle to the death.

Clary hoped, with all her heart, that it wouldn't have to come down to that.

Jace hadn't left her side since they left the cottage, touching her in any way he could: holding her hand, putting his hand on her back, anything he could. He glanced at her every few seconds, to see the emotions flashing across her face. He knew she was worried, knew she didn't want to go back to _him_.

He didn't want to acknowledge that if Valentine threatened Jace, Clary'd probably give herself over. He'd known her for a day—maybe even less, he could not for the life of him tell what time it was—yet he felt like he knew her through and through. There was one thing he knew for sure, she'd do anything to protect him, like he'd do for her.

But as they stood face to face with Valentine, there was no predicting what would happen.

Jace retreated his hand from her discreetly, but made sure she remained behind him.

Valentine's dark eyes immediately went to Clary, while, out of the corner of Jace's eye, he saw Clary's gaze go to someone next to Valentine. The two men looked nearly identical, if it were not for the younger man's bright green eyes.

 _Her brother_ , he quickly realized.

''Jonathan Herondale, you have something of mine. I want it back.''

He glanced at Clary, meeting her green eyes with his reassuring, golden ones. He saw the fear in hers.

''Clary is not an 'it', nor is she yours.'' Jace defended, looking Valentine in the eye with all the hatred he could muster.

Meanwhile, Clary was doing all she could to avoid her father's stern gaze, instead, seeking the comfort of her brother's. She could see the fear in his eyes.

Jonathan was strong, brave, protective... everything she could wish for in a brother. But they shared an overwhelming fear for their father, knowing he could kill both of them in a second, be it by the power of his own hand—or teeth—or by a command to his pack.

A shiver went down her spine as Valentine chuckled—a shiver of pure fear.

''You're mates. How adorable.''

Jace took a menacing step forward, Clary grabbed his arm in panic to keep him from attacking Valentine. He bared his teeth at the older man, snarling, his eyes much darker than their usual gold.

He looked terrifying.

''If you hurt her, _I will rip your veins out, one by one_.''

Valentine smiled, trying to seem unfazed by the golden boy's threat, but Clary knew him. She could see the flash of fear in his eyes before it disappeared.

''Come on then, Herondale boy. I challenge you.''

There it was, an official challenge, now all Jace had to do was kill hi—

''There will be no need for that.''

All the wolves, of both packs, looked to the right, the forest edge, where figures were emerging from the darkness.

'' _Shadowhunters_.'' Valentine hissed.

A lady stepped forward, dressed in all black, looking as graceful as a cat.

''Valentine Morgenstern, by the authority vested in me by the Clave, you are hereby under arrest and will be taken to the nearest Institute for further questioning, and finally, a fitting punishment, as it has come to our attention you have broken the Accords.'' Her face was a stone wall, showing no emotion, no fear, no pride, nothing. The words were spoken swiftly.

The vicious man only grinned, face as blank as the woman's.

''And why would I do that?''

''If you choose to fight, your sentence will be certain and your end will be swift.'' She raised her eyebrows, as if to challenge him.

In a split second, Valentine charged at her.

None of his pack followed. They knew better than to attack the Nephilim, than to mess with the Clave.

Before Valentine could get five steps closer to the black clad group, an arrow pierced his head.

The woman didn't seem fazed as his body dropped down before her, instead turning herself to the pack as his blood coloured the grass.

''Morgenstern pack, this man will no longer be your leader. You are free to go as you please, _but_ —'' she quickly interjected their sighs of relief, ''—don't do anything reckless, or you will meet the same fate.''

As soon as the words fell from her mouth with a final tone, Clary ran across the space seperating the two packs and practically tackled her brother in a bear hug.

Jace had had a few encounters with the Nephilim, and he had to say, their timing was pretty fucking perfect.

...

...

...

A few new wolves had joined their pack, including Clary's brother, the rest had gone on a search for a new one.

The Herondale pack now held the authority—aside from the Clave—in the small town of Wayland.

Everyone in the Shadow World knew not to mess with Jace, nor his mate. Hell, _especially_ not his mate.

As he looked down at the beauty in his arms, as they laid in bed in each other's embrace, he knew he'd go mad if he was in a different _room_ for more than a few hours, let alone a bigger distance. He was completely taken with her, and would do anything to keep her safe—and close—no matter what.

No one would ever come between them.

 **A/N: Shit that was a lot longer than I intended for it to be. But, you see, I haven't written anything in a** ** _long_** **while. I've honestly just felt so depressed lately, with shit happening at home and my friends basically ignoring me, that I've had no inspiration nor motivation to write. And today, after watching many of my childhood favorites to cheer me up a little, I randomly decided to start writing.** ** _And I couldn't fucking stop_** **. So, I'm sorry that it's so long, but I feel quite good about it. At least I managed to hold a plot, this time. HAH.**

 **Anyway, recommendation of the day: my childhood favorites. Spirit: Stallion of the Cimarron, fuck that one's amazing. DOWNLOAD THE SOUNDTRACK TO THAT ONE I LOVE BRYAN ADAMS** ** _FUCK_** **. Princess and the Frog, AKA my favorite Disney princess movie. Rise of the Guardians, that one will never not be amazing, there's just something so handsome about Jack Frost, fuck. Up, from Disney Pixar. I usually don't really like Pixar movies all that much but Up really hit my sweet spot. The soundtrack was on fucking point. ALSO IS ANYONE WATCHING GAME OF THRONES BECAUSE FFUUUHHHHUUUCKKK. On a book note, I just started reading Simon vs. the Homosapiens Agenda, and it's really good so far. Also, funny story, I ordered it at my local bookstore the other day, since it was out of stock, and got an email saying:**

 **Your order of** ** _SIMON VS. THE HOMO_** **has arrived.**

 **I fucking pissed my pants laughing at that. Damn you, bookstore trying to act smart.**

 **Anyway, that's my cue to get the fuck out of here. What is also my cue is my mom reminding my it's** ** _00.58 AM_** **, which I momentarily seemed to forget about. But, eh, who needs sleep. I'm on a writing spree so I'm going to fucking continue it.**

 **ANYWAY.**

 **Leave me a review, I really do appreciate it.**

 **Favorite this lovely little one-shot of which I'm really proud.**

 **Read my other one-shots :) you know you want to.**

 **Waffles out.**


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